


Skin Deep

by RadiantBeam



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, First Time, Mild Sexual Content, Oral Sex, Scars, Sexual Content, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 02:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19879852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadiantBeam/pseuds/RadiantBeam
Summary: Saran Aeducan's first time with Leliana is enjoyable, even if the bard sets the pace in such a way that she doesn't get the chance to really explore her body. She understands why, considering the previous talk of torture, but she knew it was something they would need to approach together sooner rather than later.Of course, in the end, Leliana beats her to it.





	Skin Deep

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally my first time writing anything even vaguely smutty on my own, and even then it's more fluff than smut, so, uh... enjoy!

The feeling of Leliana’s fingers tracing along the small of her back allowed Saran to finally drift down from the pleasant haze that had settled in her head. It was an equally pleasing sensation, the bard’s fingers on her, but a different enough one to get her attention, and she shifted her head in her arms with a satisfied sigh, cracking open an eye to look at the other woman. “Surprised you only just noticed that,” she murmured.

Leliana laughed quietly, mindful of the others outside their tent as she examined the tattoo on her lover’s skin. “This is the first time I’ve had a moment to really look at it,” she replied lightly. “I noticed it before, believe me.” As if to drive home her words, she dipped her head and pressed her lips to the tattoo, soft and warm, and Saran shivered. “May I ask what it is?”

Saran hummed, closing her eye. “The Lord Shaper tells it better than I could, but it’s the sigil of House Aeducan. You remember the Hall of Heroes? With all of our Paragons?”

“I do, yes.”

“When a dwarf is named a Paragon… well, to make a long story short, they’re raised to nobility and a house is founded in their name. Paragon Aeducan--he was the one who rallied our people to fight back against the First Blight. My--our…” She grimaced, shifting to rub her eyes as she briefly tripped over her own thoughts. “The house is called the shield of Orzammar to this day. The tattoo was Trian’s idea.”

“Trian… your brother?”

“Yes. He’d just turned eighteen.” She smiled now, at the memory. “Got excited and drunk and came up with this grand idea that we should all have our sigil somewhere on our bodies, so we’d always have it with us. Had to put mine somewhere no one would ever see it.” She glanced up at Leliana, smiling innocently. “Didn’t see any tattoos on you.”

That earned her a light swat, and she giggled; Leliana shook her head in amusement as she rested on her stomach, stretching in a way that had Saran’s eyes following her body. “They weren’t encouraged in my training,” she said. “If a bard favors seduction, you have to make sure your body appeals to everyone.”

Saran mirrored Leliana’s stretch--not even bothering to hide her pleased smile when the redhead’s eyes followed her now--and sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. Still, she was careful with where her eyes wandered; the human had set the pace for their first time together, and it had been a pace that had allowed for exploration and pleasure. The focus had been more on Saran than anything else, it being her first time with a woman, and after the fact she realized now that Leliana had managed the encounter in such a way that she’d enjoyed herself, but hadn’t gotten a look at her body.

Considering her talk of torture, the Warden could guess at why. Still, this was something they needed to approach sooner rather than later, and just as Saran was starting to think on how to bring it up, Leliana beat her to it; the archer shifted, pressing absently into her leg, and the warmth of her made the dwarf look down at her. “Leliana?”

“I know you’re thinking it.” If she was nervous about what was about to happen, her small smile didn’t show it. “Go on. It’s only fair, after I got such a good look at you.”

To thank her for permission seemed almost insulting, so even though Saran thought it she didn’t say it out loud; she took a quiet breath to compose herself, briefly pressing a kiss to red strands of hair before she finally let her gaze take in the bard’s naked body beside her.

Her back alone told a story—even as a kinslayer, the blonde hadn’t been tortured, but she recognized the long scars along Leliana’s shoulders and back, her hips. Someone had whipped her bloody, often enough that the scars were still noticeable years after the fact, even if they had faded some with time. The dwarf hesitated, then gently traced those scars with her fingers, mindful of the human’s reaction to her touch.

Leliana’s breath shuddered, slightly. But she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t pull away. That was promising.

“The guards did this?” Saran finally asked, and her throat felt dry

“Yes.” Leliana chuckled quietly, something low and tired. “It’s not a very pretty picture, I know.”

The Warden’s throat tightened suddenly, painfully. She wanted to say something, anything—reassure her love that she was beautiful, tell her the scars were attractive—but the words wouldn’t come no matter how she willed them to. There was something old and aching in Leliana’s voice, and words didn’t feel like enough to soothe that.

That was fine, though. There were other ways to soothe that ache, and while she’d certainly been  _ distracted  _ at the time, Saran had still paid some attention to what was going on. She could only hope she did it right, now.

She tucked loose strands of golden hair back behind her ear before she lowered her head, pressing light, soft kisses where her fingers had been only a moment before. Leliana’s breath shuddered and hitched and she paused, waiting, as she felt subtle tension seep into the archer’s muscles. She kept her hand on her back, though, absently rubbing warm skin with her thumb as she waited, and the other woman relaxed with a quiet sigh.

“You okay?” she asked. Her voice was soft—because of their companions outside or the shift in the mood in their tent, she wasn’t sure.

“I’m fine,” the human murmured. “Just… surprised.”

Words finally seemed to want to cooperate, because Saran smiled as she spoke. “Don’t be, Lel. You’re beautiful.”

Leliana buried her face in her arms with a muffled, thick laugh of  _ “Maker,” _ and Saran took that as a good sign when she caught the mingled shock and joy in her tone. She hummed, pleased, and resumed her quest; she took her time, tracing every scar she found with her fingers, searing it into her memory with a kiss. She was nothing if not patient, and the night was young yet. She had time.

She ran out of skin to explore eventually, though, and she grieved that fact with a quiet sigh; as she pulled away and settled back down beside Leliana, though, the bard finally managed to speak. “There’s one more scar,” she said, and the blonde smirked slightly in satisfaction at the breathlessness in those words.

“Where? If you want to show me, I mean. We can stop here if you don’t.”

The archer laughed. “So polite,” she husked, and anything Saran planned to say in response died before it passed her lips as the other woman shifted and rolled over onto her back, folding her arms back behind her head. The sight of Leliana like this, relaxed and open, shouldn’t have stunned the dwarven Warden.

And yet, she still was. She’d gotten this far, somehow; she could only hope her love kept enjoying it.

Saran swallowed and settled on top of Leliana after a moment, drinking in the sight of her. She wasn’t sure why she felt so cautious—the other woman was the taller of them, being human, and when  _ she’d  _ been the one under her she hadn’t been this nervous—but she managed a small smile all the same and leaned forward, gently grabbing Leliana’s hands and guiding them to her hips before she looked down at her fully.

In contrast to her back, the rogue’s front was almost completely unmarked; in some strange way, it made the single scar that  _ was  _ there even more noticeable. Saran inhaled quietly when she saw it, slashing its way along her ribs, just under her breasts. “You were stabbed?”

Leliana’s hands were warm on her hips, something that allowed her to ignore the sudden roar in her head as the other woman spoke. “Yes,” she said evenly. “As you said before, well—to make a long story short, Marjolaine stabbed me.”

And there  _ was  _ a story there, Saran realized, because she’d never heard that before even when the redhead had told her why she’d fled Orlais. But at the moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Spurred on by her lover’s steady grip, she hesitantly leaned forward, traced the length of the scar with her fingers. “It must have been painful,” she said, and wanted to immediately kick herself for stating something so obvious.

Another gentle squeeze, before the bard spoke, and her tone wasn’t mocking; more contemplative, if anything. “It did. Honestly, until then I didn’t know there were other ways of making a person forget to breathe.”

There was something darker in that, if Saran wanted to dig into it, but now wasn’t the time or the place for such examination. So instead she latched onto the basic implication of those words, and hoped she’d do them justice in a far more pleasurable way. She held Leliana’s gaze for a moment as she continued to trace that scar with her fingers, saw her eyes sharpen and darken, and only then did she lean down to press her lips to the slightly raised skin.

It was worth it to hear the way Leliana’s breath caught on the inhale, and released on a shaking sigh as her nails dug into her hips. Hard enough to mark, and Saran was perfectly fine with that thought.

And from there it was so  _ easy  _ to keep going once she had explored that scar with her mouth—down, down along a toned stomach and between warm thighs, Leliana’s fingers curling tightly in her hair as she found the place her lover had neglected before. The bard had been focused on her, on her pleasure, and even if it was slow and a little hesitant, Saran listened and gave her that same pleasure in return.

She still had a lot to learn, she thought—it was something she worried about even now. But as Leliana pulled her up now in the aftershocks of it, kissed her slow and deep and buried her face into her neck with a ragged sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, Saran knew that at the very least, she’d convinced her that she was beautiful. That she was worth this love, this pleasure, scars and all.

That was enough. And she would remind her again and again, as much as Leliana needed it. Because she believed it with her entire heart, and one day maybe her bard would, too.


End file.
